


The Second Death Of Heggi Silvereye

by whisper_norbury



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accident, Afterlife, Campfire stories, Dead Body, Death, Denial of death, Funerals, Gen, Halls of Mandos, Healer, Horror, Medicine, Mystery, Starvation, Supernatural - Freeform, Training, Writing on the wall, Young Fíli, Young Kíli, Young Thorin, Young Óin, burial, burried alive, corpse, dying of thirst, horror stories, mining, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisper_norbury/pseuds/whisper_norbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Óin tells a young Fíli and Kíli about why he decided to become a healer -- but the story might just prove too frightening for the boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While Kíli and Fíli's ages are listed in-story as being 20 and 25 respectively, they are the equivalent of humans of about 10 and 13.
> 
> There is a tentative connection with Standing-Stone (as in, Óin's tale will be mentioned in future chapters of that story), but it is absolutely not necessary to read one to understand the other.

Óin stepped into the deep shadows between the trees that crowned the ridge, then he halted and watched in silence as Dís's sons continued to argue and fuss. This was the first time the boys had been allowed out with him overnight to practice field medicine; but though, at 20- and 25-years, they were certainly old enough to be able to complete the simple tasks Óin had set on them, they had done little but grumble and make excuses since they had set out earlier that day. 

After a few hours the noise had started to wear so thin on Óin that he had used the need to gather firewood as an excuse to get a few minutes of peace. He hadn't held out much hope that his absence would improve their mood, though, and he was not now surprised when he saw Fíli poke his brother's chest with his finger.

"You're _never_ going to get this right," said Fíli; then he unwrapped the bandage from around the bottom of his own leg and began rewrapping it, himself. "If I was really hurt, my leg would've fallen off already."

"How about I tie that bandage around your _mouth_ , instead?" asked Kíli, sitting back and folding his arms tightly across his chest.

"How about you try to get it right the first time," said Fíli, "then you won't have to worry about Óin making you do it over and over until you _do_  get it right?" He finished binding his imaginary wound and pointed at it. "See. _That's_ how you do it."

"Why do we even have to do this?" asked Kíli as he flopped onto his back and draped his forearm over his eyes. 

Óin let out a long breath, then strode into the ring of firelight with a bundle of sticks in his arms. "Because your uncle and mother want you to learn how to treat wounds."

Fíli turned his head to look at him and Kíli groaned.

"But isn't that what _you're_ for?" asked the younger brother, sitting up.

Fíli kicked him gently, as if to tell him to be quiet; but Óin just laughed.

"Now, you think I'll always be there?" he asked, sitting down with a grunt and piling the sticks next to the fire.

"Well, yeah," said Kíli with a slight shrug. "You or Uncle Thorin or _somebody_. It's not like we're going to go out on our own."

"You will someday, and you may just be thankful for this learning when that moment comes along." He shifted around and examined Fíli's binding job. "This isn't too bad, but it is a bit loose."

"Uncle Thorin showed us how to do most of this already," said Fíli, wincing as Óin pulled the bandage tighter around his leg. "But Kíli still can't get it right."

" _Everybody_ doesn't have to know how to do _everything_ , do they?" asked Kíli under his breath.

"Well, _you_ don't know much of _anything_ ," replied Fíli in a whisper.

Though Óin's ears were not as keen as they had once been, he still heard the boys and shot them a fiery look. Kíli shut his mouth tight and Fíli looked off to the side.

"You'd do well not to insult your brother," Óin told Fíli, "when you didn't know anything at the beginning, yourself. Truth is, you could both do with a lot more training."

"But couldn't we at least wait until morning?" asked Kíli.

"Do you think your wounds would wait until morning?" returned Óin. "If your leg was bleeding or broken, do you really think you would want to wait until daylight to treat it?"

Both Fíli and Kíli looked away sheepishly, and Óin sat back and picked up a long stick, then began poking at the fire. A rush of sparks flew up into the night air, and Fíli's eyes glinted as he turned them upwards.

"Go on and take the bandage off," Óin told him. "There are other things I want to go over with you lads before we turn in for the night."

Fíli started trying to untie the cloth from his leg, but Óin had bound it so tight that he could not release the knot. He looked at Kíli and gave him a tight-lipped smile, as if to ask for assistance; but Kíli just smirked and shook his head.

"Do it, yourself," said Kíli, "if you're so _good_ at it."

Fíli's smile fell into a scowl; then the corner of his mouth turned up and he grabbed his hunting knife out of its sheath on his boot. He slid the blade under the bandage, cutting it away, then waved the cloth in his brother's face.

"Never cut what you can untie, Fíli," scolded Óin, grabbing the bandage from him. "This could have been used again."

"I _couldn't_ untie it," said Fíli. "You made it too tight."

"You could have untied it if you'd have tried just a little harder," said Óin, then he threw the bandage onto his pack before turning to Kíli. "And _you_ should have helped your brother. Someday, all you two might have is each other, and if you don't learn to work together, then it'll be no better than if you were out on your own."

"Well, yeah," said Fíli. "But, still, we have more bandages."

"And if you didn't?" asked Óin.

The boys looked at one another, then back at the older Dwarf.

"But we _do_ ," said Kíli.

Óin growled low and scratched under his beard. "All right," he said, sighing heavily. "What would you lads like to do now?"

Kíli glanced at his bedroll. "I think I'd like to sleep."

"All you _ever_ want to do is sleep," said Fíli; then he yawned and turned to Óin. "But he's right."

"I know you lads don't much enjoy this type of training," said Óin, tightening his jaw. "But it really is much more important than you might think."

"Maybe important, but really boring," said Fíli.

Kíli nodded vigorously. "How come you like it so much, anyway?"

Óin stared into the fire for a moment, then his mouth twisted into a crooked grin as he reached into the satchel at his side and withdrew his pipe. "Fine, I'll let you lads sleep..."

Fíli let out a relieved breath and Kíli laid back onto his bedroll; then Óin cleared his throat as he pulled his pipeweed pouch out of his bag and started stuffing his pipe.

"... _But_ you'll be listening to me until then."

"I'll _listen_ ," said Kíli, thrusting both arms straight up into the air, "so long as we don't have to _do_ anything." He let his hands fall onto his chest.

Óin looked at Fíli. "And you? Would you like to listen?"

Fíli pulled his knees up to his chest. "Depends on what I'm listening to, I guess."

"Well, tell me... do you lads  _really_ want to know why I chose to be a healer?"

"Not really, no," said Kíli.

Óin let out a quick laugh. "Maybe it'd be best if I didn't tell you, after all." He placed the bit of his pipe in his mouth. "I doubt you would sleep well afterwards."

" _Nothing_  is gonna keep me awake," said Kíli. 

"This might," said Óin. "It is really a rather frightening thing."

"What is so frightening about patching scrapes and treating headaches?" asked Kíli.

Kíli never seemed to have much love for such tales, but they had always fascinated Fíli; and the elder brother grinned and rested his chin on his knees as he let his full focus fall on Óin.

"Were you close to our age at the time?" he asked.

"Ah, no," said Óin. "I was almost sixty, and before that I had pretty well set my mind on being a scholar."

"What changed your mind?"

"The second death of Heggi Silvereye."

Kíli raised his head. "The _what_?"

Óin drew a thin stick from the fire and held the burning end to the bowl of his pipe. He puffed on it a few times, sending swirls of smoke curling into the air between himself and the campfire, then he threw the stick back into the flames. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kíli sit up.

"Are you going to tell us about it?" asked Fíli after a minute of watching Óin puff on his pipe.

"Are you quite sure you want me to?" asked Óin. "You are a bit young to be hearing such things, and your mother mightn't want me to tell you."

"She doesn't have to know," said Fíli.

Kíli scooted closer to the fire and said nothing.

Óin grinned around the stem of his pipe, then turned his face towards the sky. The night air was still and silent, and though he figured a wailing wind might lend itself better to the telling of this story, he thought it well enough that it was as quiet as a tomb, and nearly as dark.

"In those days, I had a good friend by the name of Fari," he said after gathering his memories. "We worked the mines together..."

"Why would you spend time in the mines if you wanted to be a scholar?" interrupted Fíli.

"I did it because it needed to be done," said Óin. "And you lads will be doing your turn there someday, as well, since your uncle and mother don't want you to ride through your lives on your names alone. Now hush up and listen."

Fíli nodded, and Óin went on.

"Now, we were working an iron deposit one day, Fari and I, and... well, it is an unfortunate thing, but the walls were a bit unstable and there was a cave-in..."

Fíli's eyes widened. "Were you hurt?"

"Did Fari die?" added Kíli.

"Neither," said Óin. "Though six miners did die in the collapse, and it was a number of days before we could dig them out. Among the dead was Fari's uncle..."

"Was that Heggi Silvereye?" asked Kíli anxiously.

"No, his name was Sulki. Now stop interrupting, both of you." Óin sighed. "Anyway, Sulki had raised Fari after the dragon came; and as Fari's closest friend, I was asked to stand with him at the interment."

Óin tried to puff on his pipe again, then looked into the bowl when no smoke came out. He picked up a small stick and started digging at the hard-packed pipeweed, then he thrust the end of the stick into the flames. After he had lit his pipe once more, he looked into the fire and let his thoughts drift back.

"Now, _this_ is where Heggi comes into the tale..."


	2. Chapter 2

**_(50 years earlier)_ **

_Óin remembered walking down this passage before, watching on as Fari's grandfather had been laid to rest; but though Sulki was to be buried in the same chamber--in the coffin that had been carved for him when the vault had been constructed--his funeral was a much smaller affair. Despite the high reputation his family had enjoyed in Erebor, Sulki had chosen a miner's life for himself in the Blue Mountains, and as such, he had felt it would be wrong to let the fame of his forebears dictate how he would be interred._

_So, as per his will, there had been few songs, few words, few mourners, and a simple bier borne by four. Those four included three of his closest friends, as well as Fari, who had been like a son to Sulki since Smaug had killed the boy's parents. And though there were not many others in attendance, Thorin had also come -- as it was the prince's custom to attend all the funerals of his people, whether he had known them well, slightly, or not at all._

_To Óin, however, this was an uncommon thing. Sulki's father's funeral six years ago had actually been the last he had attended, and he remembered thinking at the time that it was really a rather dull affair. He knew even then that he should have been somber and respectful; but at that time, he was just restless._

_It was at that point, in fact, that he and Fari had struck up their friendship; as Óin had fallen into conversation with him after the burial had ended and the ale was flowing, and Óin had inadvertently brought up how boring it had been. To his credit, Fari had kept his humor; and since then, the two had been inseparable._

_But now that someone was being laid to rest that Óin not only knew, but had been very fond of, he felt a sinking ache in his chest. Most of that aching was for Fari, and the knowledge that the too-young Dwarf had suddenly been thrust into the position of being the last of his family line; and Óin wished that there was some way to help his friend beyond just standing by at the funeral and offering up his condolences. But even as he was thinking about what else he could do or say, the bearers set the bier down in front of the great stone door that blocked the entrance to Fari's family vault._

...

"Heggi was Fari's grandfather, wasn't he?" asked Kíli, breaking Óin out of his thoughts.

Though Óin was at first inclined to scold the boy for interrupting again, he answered the question without so much as a glance in Kíli's direction. 

"Aye. Though I thought that would be obvious."

"Why was he called _Silvereye_?" asked Fíli.

"It was an interesting thing, that," said Óin. He drew in on his pipe, then blew out a smoke-ring that was lost in the flames of the campfire. "See, Heggi was a jeweler of no small renown when he lived in Erebor, and he had a number of folks that worked under him in his shop in the foothills..."

"Why was his shop in the hills, and not in the Mountain?" Kíli broke in.

"For the sake of his apprentices," answered Óin. "Many of them were young Men of Dale and could not well handle the heat, so it was a help to have the fresher air." He paused, waiting for more questions; but the boys stayed quiet, and Óin continued. "Now, one night, there was a goblin raid..."

Kíli gasped; and from the corner of his eye, Óin saw him move a little closer to his brother.

"Heggi and his workers took refuge in the kiln-room," the older Dwarf went on, looking at the boys. "But there was no way out the back, and no way to make their escape through the crafting-room. So Heggi had his workers gather the hot crucibles near the door... then he threw it open and let the goblins rush in. They fell over the pots, spilling out the molten gold and silver and burning themselves; then Heggi and the others managed to rout them, but Heggi's eye and the whole of the left side of his face was burned by a splash of silver."

"Were you there?" asked Fíli, his mouth agape.

"No," said Óin with a slight shake of his head. "But everybody learned the story in short time, and let me tell you that Heggi was not displeased with the name that was given to him for it."

Kíli relaxed his tensed shoulders. "Oh. I thought you were going to say that was how Heggi died."

"You know that Dwarves do not burn so easily," said Óin with a wink. "Though, his face was forever after twisted and scarred on the left."

"What _did_ kill him, then?" asked Fíli.

"A fever," said Óin, tapping the bowl of his pipe with his fingertip. "Or, so it had been believed at the time..."

...

_The mourners all looked to Fari, who withdrew a key from his trouser pocket; then he folded his hand around it and and pressed it to his chest. Óin waited patiently, wanting to give Fari his moment, but when the people around them began to shift uncomfortably, he stepped up and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder._

_Fari jumped and the key fell to the floor; but before the young Dwarf even seemed to realize he had lost it, Thorin had scooped it up and was now holding it out in his opened palm. Fari swallowed hard, then nodded at the prince and accepted the key back hesitantly before looking to Óin. In the flickering light from the mourners' torches, it was easy to see the welling-up of tears in Fari's eyes as he_ _glanced around at the gathered group, then down at his shrouded uncle. He turned again to the door; and after letting out a weary breath, he slid the key into the lock and turned._

_There was a loud "crack", and as dust fell from the lintel, Fari tilted his head down and closed his eyes against it. Óin moved back; but when Fari began to push against the door and it did not open, he stepped forward and, with the hand that was not holding his torch, began to press against it, as well. Still, the door did not budge, and so Thorin came up beside Óin and set his shoulder to the stone._

_All together, they heaved against the door; and slowly it began to move inwards with a screeching that echoed up and down the bare tunnel walls. The door was only opened slightly, though, when it stopped with a jolt and held fast; and the three Dwarves lurched into it from the unexpected halt._

_Shaking off the surprise of impact, Fari turned to Óin and gave him a weak shrug; then Thorin spoke up, telling them that there must be some fragments of stone blocking the door from opening. That was not so uncommon a thing, really; as earthquakes happened every year in the Blue Mountains, and they tended to send bits of rock falling from even the most well-constructed ceilings -- it was likely that one such shake may have chipped a bit of the stone from the inner lintel, and that it was now wedged under the door._

_Each mourner looked at the others in turn, as they tried to determine who should go inside and clear the obstruction. In the end it was size that was the deciding factor, as there were only three among the mourners who were slim enough to fit through the gap -- one being a young girl, who was already frightened enough with just being in the tunnel; and the other two being Thorin and Óin, himself._

...

"You must have been a lot smaller back then," said Kíli. "I mean, if _you're_ the one they picked to go in."

Óin laughed despite himself. "Well, the years _do_  add on," he said, patting his stomach. "But to be honest, I was quite a bit more active in those days."

"Uncle Thorin never told us about any of this," said Fíli, giving his brother a sidelong glance.

"Well, and why would he?" asked Óin. "It isn't exactly the kind of thing you'd bring up in idle conversation at the dinner table, is it?"

Fíli shook his head; and Óin cleared his throat and went on.

_..._

_Thorin, for his part, did not hesitate in entering. He first thrust his torch into the chamber, then pressed his back to the jamb and eased inside. Óin, on the other hand, was rooted in place by trepidation. But at last he handed his torch off to Fari and removed his coat so that it would not wedge him in the opening. He took back the torch and steeled his nerve, then sucked in his stomach as he squeezed himself into the room behind Thorin._

_As Óin got into the dark space, he felt a tight grip on his shoulder. He fell back against the wall next to the door, pressing his hand to his chest and holding his breath, then he swung the torch out in front of himself. Thorin's agitated face appeared in the flickering light, and Óin tightened his jaw and opened his mouth as he prepared to tell the prince how he had frightened him. But Thorin held up a finger and shook his head, silencing him; and while his want for quiet in such a place was not unusual, seeing the prince's knitted brows and shaking hand was disturbing in a way that Óin could not quite comprehend._

_Óin had never feared the dead, but the chamber was fairly large and stretched out beyond the reach of the torchlight; and it took him several long breaths before he could gather the will to move away from the wall. Still, he managed only one step before freezing in place from sheer apprehension. He swallowed hard and looked to Thorin, watching the prince's narrowed eyes as they reflected the small flames from the torch that he held in front of himself._

_Thorin let out a long breath, then tilted his chin up and took Óin by the sleeve, leading him around to the other side of the partially-open door. Óin followed reluctantly, dragging his feet and gritting his teeth; and on the other side, Thorin stopped and held his torch down. After glancing back at the darkness behind him, Óin looked to the base of the door -- but where he had expected to see a fall of stones, there instead lay the crumpled and petrified remains of a long-dead Dwarf._


	3. Chapter 3

"That was Heggi, wasn't it?" asked Kíli breathlessly; and from the corner of his eye, Óin saw the boy move closer to his brother. "What happened to him?"

Óin puffed on his pipe and looked over at the pair, suddenly reluctant to continue. "Are you quite certain you lads can handle this story?"

"I can, even if Kíli can't," said Fíli; though Óin noticed that he was hugging his knees a bit tighter now.

"I can handle it!" said Kíli, glaring at him.

"So, should I go on, then?" asked Óin. "Or would you rather wait until morning?"

"You can tell us now," said Fíli, seemingly anxious to hear the rest.

Kíli let out a small noise and Fíli looked over at him; then the younger brother pursed his lips.

"All right, so it's a _little_ scary," said Kíli, turning towards Óin. "But you're not too scared by it, so it can't be _that_ bad, can it? I mean, the worst part is over, right?"

Óin turned his eyes aside. Though he had begun telling this story almost lightly, the memories he had dredged up were giving him pause, and he was no longer quite so sure that he should be filling their heads with such tales. Still, he could not end the telling there, and so he cleared his throat and went on.

"It really was a dreadful thing to see," he said, clamping his teeth around the bit of his pipe. "But half a century has gone by, and time does tend to ease shock. I will tell you, though... as young as I was, I thought my heart would stop beating..."

...

_The wretched sight weakened Óin's knees and sent him stumbling back; then he drew in a quick breath as he wheeled about, intent on leaving the burial chamber as quickly as he could. Thorin caught him by the arm, and the prince's strong grip not only forestalled Óin's hasty exit, but brought him hard onto his rear. The torch fell from his hand and clattered to the ground in front of the dead Dwarf; and Óin scooted away from the body as a scream started working its way out of his throat._

_Thorin dropped to his knees and threw his hand over Óin's mouth, silencing him; and after Óin stopped struggling and trying to yell, the prince shook his head gravely. Óin nodded, and Thorin released him before standing and offering him a hand up. The assistance was accepted with trepidation, and once he was standing once more, Óin looked down at the corpse and held his breath._

_People in the passage began asking what the noise had been, and what the delay was; and Óin looked to Thorin for answers. The prince leaned close, whispering for him to keep the others out; and after a few moments of staring wordlessly at the body and willing down a wave of nausea, Óin moved unsteadily to where the door was cracked open and peeked out._ _His voice squeaked as he lied to the gathered mourners--telling them that the stones blocking the door were large and unwieldy, and that it would take a while to clear the obstruction--then he turned his eyes to Fari, but he could not hold his friend's gaze for long before Thorin pulled him back into the burial chamber._

_Óin screeched and Thorin held up a finger; then Óin clamped his mouth shut and watched as Thorin stooped by the body. He pushed the ragged mop of hair away from the Dwarf's leathery face, then he uttered a curse and motioned for Óin to come down and look; but when Óin stood fast, Thorin grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to his knees._

_Thorin held his torch down, illuminating the scarred cheek and missing eye; and though, from that, it was at least clear who the dead Dwarf was, he looked nothing like Heggi Silvereye as Óin remembered him. It seemed, in fact, that Heggi's skin had been tanned, and that his emaciated body had been stuffed too sparsely by a taxidermist. There was a lingering terror in his remaining eye; and where his mouth gaped open, his darkened lips were pulled back from his teeth, making it seem as if his skull was trying to push its way out through the skin that was stretched tight across his face._

_Heggi's nearly-skeletal left hand was wedged under the door, the hefty ring on his third finger preventing it from opening; but how his body had ended up there was something that Óin could not fathom. He remembered clearly seeing the patriarch's pale and cold body being lowered into his coffin, then being covered with a great slab of stone. An earthquake may well have managed to work the coffin lid off, but it could not have then moved the body to where it now lay._

_A flood, he thought, might have done such a thing; but there had been no flooding in the catacombs in many years. He lifted his torch off the ground and held it up to the wall, looking for a water-line that would show where such a flood would have receded from. He saw nothing of the sort, and no proof of there ever being water in the chamber -- but what he did see sent a shock of terror up his spine._

_..._

Óin stopped suddenly, then blinked hard a few times as he let his eyes regain their focus. He had dipped so deep into his memories that he hadn't realized how far the story had gotten; and when he looked over at Fíli and Kíli, he saw that the brothers were now clinging to one another. Kíli's eyes were closed and his fingers were clutching at his brother's sleeve; and while Fíli himself was still looking at the older Dwarf, his face was half-hidden by the arm he had wrapped over Kíli's shoulder.

"Ah, I knew this would be too frightening for you two," said Óin, determining that he should not go on, after all. "Let's just end it there."

"But what happened to Heggi?" asked Kíli, his voice muffled.

"As terrible a thing as it was, it seemed that he must have been buried before he was actually dead." Óin paused as he took his pipe out of his mouth and set it down on his bag, the last of the pipe-weed having been smoked a while before. "And that he must have woken up afterwards."

Kíli shuddered and tightened his grip on Fíli. "I don't like that," he said in a hushed tone, opening his eyes at last. "Why'd they bury him if he wasn't dead yet?"

"They thought he _was_ dead when he was laid to rest," answered Óin somberly. "See, sometimes a body can... well, it can _stop_ for a while, if a person is really sick or badly hurt. Don't know why, exactly... but after a time, if the person doesn't die, then he might just wake up."

"How did he get out of the coffin?" asked Fíli.

"Ah, there must have been some mad strength in him," said Óin. "I suppose the shock of the situation brought it on."

"How'd he die, though?" asked Fíli. "I mean... well, the _second_ time?"

"Oh, it's anyone's guess," said Óin with a slight shrug. "Could be the fever wasn't quite so done with him, after all. Some good did come of it, though. From then on there were no burials in the Blue Mountains until the dead had been laid out for days, at least." He let out a long breath. "Until it could be proven that they were not alive."

Fíli's eyes widened. "Is that why you chose to be a healer, then?"

"Aye," said Óin. "I did not want to see such a thing happening again, and I figured, if I learned well enough, I might just be able to save someone's life, even after they were thought to be dead. And for that, I learned that it is best to not only look for signs of life in someone, but to look for lack of... well, for lack of decomposition, as well. And three times since, that learning has been of help."

Kíli loosened his grip on his brother a bit, then pulled him close again. " _You_ saved three people from being buried alive?"

"I did," said Óin, nodding slightly. "Over some forty years' time."

Kíli shook his head against his brother's shoulder, and Fíli's eyes flitted up as he peered at the darkened trees above them; then, at once, the boys seemed to realize they were still holding tightly to one another and pushed apart, grinning sheepishly.

Óin stretched and let out an affected yawn. "Well, then... are you lads ready for a good night's sleep now?"

"It's not..." Fíli began, then he cleared his throat. "It's not actually that late."

"I can stay up a while longer," added Kíli quickly.

Óin nodded again. "I suppose a little more training mightn't be a bad thing."

He reached into his pack and drew out some bandages, tossing them to Kíli; then he turned his eyes to Fíli and saw that his brows were drawn together. Fíli seemed to sense Óin's gaze, and looked over at his brother briefly before scooting closer to the older dwarf.

"What did you see on the wall?" he asked, lowering his voice.

Óin felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle and he reached up and scratched at the tingle. "Nothing, nothing..." he said in a whisper. "Just... let it be, lad."

"If you think Kíli will be too scared, then you can just tell _me_ ," Fíli went on. 

"Not tonight." 

"All right... not tonight. But how about tomorrow? Will you tell me _then_?"

Óin looked at him past sunken eyebrows. "Will you swear not to tell your brother?" he asked, glancing at Kíli, who was focussing on the binding job he was now doing on his own foot. "As you said -- you may be ready to hear it, though he may not be."

"I swear," said Fíli, smiling wide.

The older Dwarf nodded. "In the morning, then," he said. " _If_ you manage any sleep."

  


	4. Chapter 4

Óin was wakened by a hand shaking his shoulder before the sun had yet made its way above the horizon, and he grunted and draped his arm over his eyes. The night had been long--longer than even _he_ had intended--and none of them had gotten to sleep until late into the evening; and so he was not quite ready to start the day. But he was shaken again, and after grumbling quietly to himself, he stretched and yawned and looked up into Fíli's eager, though tired face.

"You should be sleeping," the older Dwarf scolded.

"It's morning," the boy said, his voice hoarse. "You said you'd finish the story."

"I meant _after_ sunrise, Fíli."

"You didn't say that. You just said _in the morning_."

After growling low at himself for not being more specific, Óin sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I did say that, didn't I?" He glanced over at Kíli, who was curled up under his blanket and snoring noisily, then he returned his attention to Fíli. "Did you get much sleep last night, lad?"

Fíli nodded. "Yes," he said. "Lots."

Óin looked at him doubtfully, then turned to the fire. It was still burning brightly, and he figured that Fíli had either stoked it when he'd woken, or else he had not slept much at all and had kept it fuled all night. Regardless, Óin let out a long breath and began to gather his thoughts.

"Where did I leave off?" he asked.

"You saw something on the wall," answered Fíli, hugging his knees as he had done the night before. "And it frightened you."

"Ah, yes... that was..." He stopped and gritted his teeth, then reached into his pack and pulled out a hard biscuit, breaking it in half and handing a piece to Fíli. "Here. Some breakfast mightn't be a bad idea."

Fíli took the offered food and nibbled on it, all the while keeping his eyes on Óin. "Were there nail-marks on the wall?" he asked. "Was Heggi clawing to get out?"

Óin choked on his biscuit, then coughed a few times to clear his throat. "No... no, nothing of the sort," he said. He grabbed his water-skin and took a long drink. "What would give you that idea, anyway?"

"Well, when you and Kíli were asleep, I was thinking what _I_ would do if I was buried alive and..." His voice trailed off.

"Got _lots_  of sleep, did you?" asked Óin, raising an eyebrow at him.

Fíli shook his head, then shrugged. "I wasn't frightened or anything," he said. "I was just thinking a lot about what you told us, and... it kept me awake."

"Hmm..." Óin took another bite of biscuit. "Well, Heggi didn't try to save himself when he discovered where he was, so... _no_. There were no nail marks on the wall."

Kíli's snoring stopped and he shifted a bit under his blanket; and Óin and Fíli watched him until he had settled down once more.

"Why didn't he?" asked Fíli, turning back to the older Dwarf. "The _first_ thing I'd do would be to try and get out."

"Maybe if you _knew_ you'd been buried alive," said Óin. "And Heggi did not."

Confusion showed on Fíli's face, but he said nothing and Óin went on.

...

_Óin placed his hand on Thorin's shoulder and the prince looked up; and when his eyes fell on the marks, he reached up and ran his fingers along the gouges. They were words, roughly-carved and ranging from neat and deep at the left end of their writing, to scratchy and shallow at the far-right._

_The prince stood and held his torch high as he studied the writing; but even as Óin began reading the words silently to himself, Thorin began speaking them out loud-- though low enough at first for only the two of them to hear._

"I wake at last from my Dead Sleep," _the words said, and so Thorin spoke_. "I felt myself being placed in my stone bed. I heard the carving of my name and the keening of the mourners.But where now are the lanterns? Where is the breeze? Where are my family that went before me? They should be waiting here..."

...

"What does _Dead Sleep_ mean?" asked Fíli breathlessly.

"Ah... y'see," said Óin, "some folks believe that when you die, you are truly just falling into your deepest sleep. And that when you wake from it, you will meet with your family once more in the... well..."

"Wait, so... wait..." Fíli's eyes widened. "Heggi thought he was _dead_ , and that he was in the..." He placed his hand over his mouth. "He thought he was in the Halls of Waiting?"

"He did," said Óin. "And he was _not_ pleased with his quarters..."

...

_Thorin took a deep breath before going on._

_"_ This does not seem to me the place my father told me about _," he read, though his voice was growing slightly louder. "_ He should be here, and my mother and my wife. I have found no one. Nothing is in this chamber save small rocks on the floor, and with one I carve this. I cannot see the words, but I can feel them _._  I have nothing else to do here, and so I write."

_Óin looked to Thorin as the prince fell silent, and at once they both realized that the crowd beyond the door was quiet. A voice on the other side spoke up -- Fari, asking what those words had been. Neither Óin nor Thorin answered, but after a few moments the prince kneeled and pulled back on Heggi's hand. The finger that wore the ring snapped, and Thorin pushed the door shut a little more, popping the ring loose from underneath and sending it skittering across the dusty floor._

_Thorin dragged Heggi's remains carefully away from the door, which was then pushed slowly open by the people in the passage. The mourners began filing in silently, each looking down at the old Dwarf on the floor and stepping back in shock as they entered. The young girl and her mother held back for last, but even they finally came into the space; and Sulki's shrouded body was left alone in the hallway._

...

A small sound rose from the other side ot the fire, and Fíli looked back over his shoulder towards where his brother lay on ground. Óin followed his gaze and saw that Kíli was shaking beneath his blanket. 

"Kíli?" asked Fíli, his voice low. "Are you awake?"

"...No."

Óin scratched the back of his head, then sighed. "Come on over, lad."

"I'm fine here," said Kíli, his voice barely audible beneath his blanket.

Fíli grinned slightly and crawled to his side, then patted him on his covered shoulder. "You want Óin to stop telling the story?" he asked kindly.

Kíli poked his head out from under the blanket. "No. I'm just... I'm fine." He sat up and blinked in the light, then scooted close to his brother. "I want to hear more."

"Are you certain?" asked Óin. "As I said, your mother might not want you to know these things."

"If Fíli is old enough, then _I_  am old enough," said Kíli.

Fíli nodded and threw hs arm over his brother's shoulder, then they both looked to the older Dwarf once more.

Óin tightened his jaw, then took another drink out of his water skin. "Fine, then..."

...

_With all the torches now inside, the chamber was much brighter than it had been; but the fresh illumination did little to ease the horror of the situation. Still, nobody spoke, and after all were standing behind Thorin and Óin in dignified silence, the prince continued to read the carved words aloud._

"I am hungry and thirsty," _he_ _went on._ "I suppose it must be because I died hungry and thirsty. I suppose I will remain that way until the end of things, until the world awakens."

_There, the first column ended; then to the right, another began._

"I slept again," _Heggi had written._ "I grew tired, and I slept. I did not know that would happen here. I am still hungry, and thirstier than I was. Will it get worse, I wonder? The door will not open. Perhaps I have been forgotten here. Perhaps they do not know that I am dead. Or perhaps I have not done all that I need to do."

_Thorin paused and looked back at the crowd. Fari stepped up to Óin's side, and the two joined hands as the young Dwarf stared down at his grandfather, then up at the words he had carved. He began reading aloud, himself._

"What do I need to do to be let out?" _read_ _Fari_ _, his voice cracking_. "Need I write a record of my days so that they may be judged? Would that please Mahal? Would that please Mandos?"

_From there, yet another column began; but Fari could not go on. Óin heard choking sobs from the people behind him, but he did not look back. The words on the wall were now thin and weak; the thoughts they conveyed were confused. And again, it was Thorin who read them._

"I wake from another sleep. The air is heavy now. Why is that? Need I breathe, really? I am hungrier now, and thirstier than I have ever been. Mahal, send me water. Send me a flood. I will not drown."

_Again, Thorin fell into silence. Óin looked over and saw that Fari's eyes were shut tight and his face was wet with tears. And so, it was Óin that read on.  
_

"You lifted me from my bed for this, Mahal?" _he spoke, and Fari's hand began to shake in his grip._  "Yes, I will give you a record of my days. From back to front. How I died to how I lived to how I was raised and how I was born. I will do it when I may. I have forever, do I not?"

_The words that came next were closest to the floor; mere scratches, and Thorin again raised his voice in the reading._

"...I hear words..." _they seemed to say, though it was hard to read_. "I hear speaking... but I will not call out... I will not pound... I will not scratch... I will not beg at the door of Mandos..."

_And there it ended._

...

Óin looked to Fíli and Kíli. They were staring at him, wide-eyed and silent; and the elder brother was holding the younger tight, seemingly protecting him from the tale.

"So, are you happier in the knowing?" asked Óin softly. "Will you sleep better tonight, now that you have heard the rest of the story?"

"No," admitted Fíli. "I can't believe he thought he was in the Halls of Waiting. How could... I mean, why did he not realize he was alive?"

"Perhaps because he hoped he wasn't," said Óin. "Perhaps, in some deep place in his mind, he knew he was not dead yet, but was afraid to admit it. Truth is, nobody can say except for Heggi, and he is really and truly long-dead."

Fíli nodded. "How did Fari take it?"

"Not well at all, to tell the truth," said Óin. "It took him many years to get over it... and even then I don't believe he really was."

"Heggi was brave, wasn't he?" asked Kíli abruptly.

"Hmm?" Óin took another drink of water, then pursed his lips and nodded. "Brave in life, and in death," he said, holding the water-skin out to Fíli. "But he was never one to just accept even the inevitable."

"But he did, though," said Fíli, taking the skin. He took a quick sip of water, then handed it to Kíli. "I mean, he accepted the _wrong_ death, but he accepted it still."

"Aye, and that wasn't a bad thing for him to do. His belief that he had already died made him fear his real death less. From the words he wrote, he was angry about it... but not _afraid_."

Kíli hugged the water-skin to his chest and cast his eyes towards the horizon, where the sun was now on the rise. "Heggi said... he _wrote_  that he heard voices on the other side of the door," he said, turning again to Óin. "If he'd have just let them know he was there..."

"I just can't believe he lasted so long," said Fíli, cutting him off. "Four days? Without air or food or water or... anything?"

You didn't make that all up, did you?" asked Kíli. "You weren't just trying to scare Fíli and me, were you?"

"On my honor, every word I said was true," said Óin, holding his hand up. "And if you ask your uncle, he will tell you the same. Though I would prefer you don't tell your mother. She mightn't be so happy to hear that I told you about it."

The boys nodded, then looked at one another before turning to the flickering fire; and as they fell into silent thought, so too did Óin.

 _Every word I said was true_ , he repeated to himself...

...

_Thorin turned to Óin after he had finished reading the record of Heggi's last moments, then he let out a long breath and turned to the other mourners. Óin's back was to them, but he could see well the expression on Thorin's face; and he saw his eyebrows draw together as he stared deeper into the chamber._

_After a few deep breaths, Thorin stepped forward, and Óin turned to watch him. The crowd parted, and the prince walked to the three stone coffins lining the back wall. The ones on the left and right were to be Sulki's and Fari's, when their day for burial came; and though the lids were already in-place--to be lifted and replaced for their interment--they had yet to be carved with their names._  

_The third and middlemost coffin was Heggi's. It was carved of the same granite as the others, but it was larger and set upon a low pedestal. A few steps led up onto it, but Thorin stopped at the bottom and moved his torch back and forth, seemingly examining the stone._

_Óin watched him for a moment, then released Fari's hand, leaving him standing by the petrified remains of his grandfather, then Óin moved to the prince's side. Together, he and Thorin stepped up onto the pedestal and looked down at the coffin lid -- solid and whole and carved with Heggi's name, and much too heavy for the old Dwarf to have put back into place where it still sealed his coffin closed._


End file.
